I had no such luck.

We had decided to fly, as it was across the country, but the place did not have an airport. So we flew to a nearby bustling city and called for a cab. Even then it wasn't easy. Maybe it was too far or something, but the driver we called did not want to take us to the place we wanted to go.

Daddy had a long discussion with the driver, one that I was not a part of, but eventually he managed to convince him to give us a ride. It was a long and silent drive, and somewhere between here and there I dozed off. When we arrived, though, something had changed.

At first sight, it looked kind of normal, something like our own suburbs back where we came from. Looking a bit closer though, there were a few things that stood out.

There weren't as many people as there were in the city. That's the first thing I took note of when I stepped out of the cab. The streets were in worse condition and trash littered the area. Looking around, you would see a building with broken windows that looked like it hadn't been used in ages. It was a very ominous sight.

The thing that stood out to me most though, was just how dark it was. Even with the fading light of the sun, the place and it's atmosphere just felt really dark to me. I didn't like it, and judging by the look on my father's face he didn't like it either.

But he didn't complain as he handed the driver his fees. Desperate times called for desperate measures I guess. The driver took the money without a word and turned around, speeding off back in that direction.

We walked along the road, and I kept a an eye out for any type of soccer field. I lost all hope quite quickly, though. No matter where we went, the buildings we walked past and the sights we saw all looked the same. The place looked like it couldn't afford decent street lamps, much less a soccer field. Even if it there was one, it would probably be unused and littered, just like the streets.

We walked well into the night and finally at one point, my dad stopped. He looked perplexed at a building that looked as if it were a bar.

"133…the address was 135. But the next house over is 137 so…"

My dad called the agents. They told him there was a path between the bar and the house that led to 135, and that was where we should go.

We retraced our steps. We found that there was this alley. Walking down it, our only discovery was a dumpster at the end of the path and a stronger, more disgusting smell. Daddy reached for his phone again-

Suddenly we heard footsteps. The alley was narrow, but quite dark, so Daddy squinted to try the find where they were coming from. I myself couldn't see anything, but Daddy's eyes widened. He turned towards me.

"Get in the dumpster."

"...What?"

I wasn't too sure I heard him correctly. Why would he tell me to go inside the smelly, filthy dumpster behind me? But he said it again.

"Get in the dumpster. And don't move!"

"But…"

"I mean it. Now!"

Daddy had never sounded so strict before. I turned around and opened the lid, retching at the smell. There was so much rotten trash inside, disgusting broken pieces of who knows what. I looked at Daddy, and he nodded at me. Recoiling and about to puke at what I was doing, I climbed inside. Daddy shut the lid over me.

You can imagine how uncomfortable it was for a girl to be in there. I was in total darkness among hoards of trash, something slimy touching my leg that I couldn't move away from, insects crawling up my torso that I couldn't reach, all among the insufferable smell of putrid trash. I gritted my teeth and swallowed my disgust, trying to think of cute puppies and rainbows to distract me from my situation. But it just didn't work. I was just about to burst out of that dump to demand why my father told me to go inside this miserable place, when I heard voices. Voices from outside that I could only listen too.

"Well, well, well. You actually came, huh?"

"Must be pretty desperate to come out to a place like this. Or maybe you didn't know?"

"The rumors of her manager being a walking pile of brain dead shit are true, huh?!"

Three voices. None of them belonging to my father. I strained against the dumpster, trying to hear his presence, but to no avail. My father made no sound.

The footsteps came closer and the three voices lowered as they got closer. Though I tried to listen to what they were saying, in my dumpster I couldn't pick up anything other than their mumbled voices. My father had still not made a sound.

Though my heart leapt violently in my chest and I wanted desperately to know what was going on, I dared not peek out of my dumpster for a look. My dad had told me not to move. And somehow, I knew this was a dangerous situation.

"You bastard!" Suddenly one of them yelled and I snapped my head back from the closer wall in fright. "Do you know who we are?"

"We were her biggest fans! Her biggest fans!"

"And-And you took her away from us! If she hadn't m-ugh married you, if she had just continued singing-"

"She would still be here with us today! Do you understand what we are trying to say?!

"It's your fault! It's your fault she died!"

"Do you have anything to say about that? Huh?!"

They were all yelling now, and my head spun in confusion as I tried to figure out what they were saying. But because their loud voices combined with the downsides of being in a dumpster made my head ache, I couldn't wrap myself around it.

"You better say something quick, punk. If you want to keep your head."

"You see these in our hands? You know what that means?"

"From the look on your face you know exactly what it means. So if you want to prove we're wrong, now would be a good time to do so!"

And for the first time in that dumpster, I heard my Dad say something.

He was quiet, unlike the other three voices who had been much louder even before they were shouting. Whatever he said, he mumbled it out and even though I was closer to him, I couldn't quite pick up what he said. So I leaned forward once again, pressing my ear directly against the inner wall of the dumpster, trying to get one word from him so I could get a clue when-

Bam!

The sound was louder than anything I had ever heard in my life. I was thrown back into the other end of the dumpster and crashed my head against the back wall, or maybe it was a brick since I couldn't tell, and my heart stopped as the sound paralyzed me in place.

"Tch. Cheeky runt." One of the voices spoke up again, a good while after the blast. "What now guys?"

"...I dunno." Some shuffling. "Guess I could go for another beer. You in, man?"

"...Uh, nah. I think I gotta go home. 's getting kinda late."

"Yeah, your right. We probably gotta get outta here anyway."

"Yeah, you know what? I think the bar's closed anyway. Let's go."

I heard their footsteps again as they walked away.

I stayed in that dumpster for a good while after they left, partly because I didn't know what to expect when I came out and partly because I wanted to make sure they were gone. I would have stayed in there much longer had a voice not called my name.

"...Mil...ky"

It was my father's voice, albeit raspier than I had ever heard it. It was so weak that I had barely picked it up in my enclosed hideaway.

I emerged from the dumpster.

My worst nightmare lay right before my eyes. I hardly noticed trash sticking to me as I walked over to the body of my father.

He was laying in a puddle of blood, pale with a hand limply lying over his stomach and his eyes staring straight up and glazed over, not really taking in anything until they locked with mine.

I didn't even think to ask if he was okay. I already knew the answer.

But as I stood next to him, aghast and stiff in disbelief, he signaled me over and asked me to take a seat.

"...Milky...you don't look...so good."

He was saying that to me? Here he was, barely able to speak for God's sake, and he told me I wasn't looking good?

"Milky...you need to...smile."

Smile. How was I supposed to smile now of all times? It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. My dad had lost his mind.

I still couldn't speak, so I simply shook his head. My dad looked like he frowned at my gesture.

"Now...that won't do...Milky...didn't I promise...I would always...keep that smile on your face?"

He did, but that was the last thing I was thinking of. How could I even think about a smile now? What good would a smile do?

My dad coughed a bit, and then gestured to his back. There he wore an old dull backpack, which carried all of our supplies. The people that had been here must've not noticed, or cared about it.

"Take it off."

Was it being a burden for him? In any case, I did what I was told, making sure not to move him too much in the process.

"Open the front pouch."

I did just that, hoping that there was something there that could help him out, some reason for me to do what he was telling.

There in the front pouch, were my headphones.

My dad coughed as he saw me look at him.

"Put them on."

I shook my head. I couldn't believe this was what he was getting at.

"Milky."

I shook my head again.

"Put them on."

It wasn't his ludicrous command that made me finally do it, it was his voice. It continually grew weaker and with each passing second I feared it would be the last I ever heard of it. That last sentence he spoke had an awful crack in his voice and that did it. I didn't want the last words I heard from him to be telling me to put something on.

"Play it."

It was on my mother's song again. Her steady voice filled my ears and my body once again. My mother's song had some sort of power. No matter who you were or what you've been through, it just always made you felt lighthearted and cheery. You almost always couldn't help but to smile at it.

But this wasn't going to happen now.

I sat there stone faced as my mother's familiar tone played in my ear. Every note I was determined not to let me make lose sight of the situation I was in. And after it's beginning, it's middle, it's chorus and it's ending, I managed to do just that.

My dad watched me the entire time. And once I was finished-

"Smile."

Why? Why did he keep telling me to smile? Did he not understand what was happening? Just how terrible this was for me?

In any case, I refused. My dad simply gave me a pathetic look.

"Play it again."

I put the headphones and listened again. I endured it again. Every note felt longer than the last, each chord of my mother's voice begging me to cheer up, but I sat there, unwilling.

"Smile."

This again. When would he realize there were more important things to do? Dropping the headphones on the ground, I turned my attention towards the bag and started rummaging through it. His phone was somewhere in there, right?

Nothing. I remembered he held it in his hand when he told me to jump in the dumpster, I searched his body, hoping that his phone was somewhere hidden in his pockets. Nothing.

"Milky."

He said to me, using my search as an opportunity to address me directly. I looked at him. He had a desperate, pleading look.

"Play it again."

I couldn't ignore him this time. I walked over and put the headphones on.

You'd think after listening it so many times, one would get sick of hearing it again right? Well, not me. No matter how many times I hear it, the same thing over and over again, I never got sick of listening to my mother's voice. It's the only time I ever get to hear her.

And so I went through it again. Every hum, every la, every lo. And this time, while I listen to it, it dawns on me just how silly of a situation this is. I mean, this was a nightmare come true for me, no question about it. But to some outsider…

Could you imagine how it would be in a book? A dying man telling his daughter to smile, and repeatedly making her listen to her dead mother's song to do so. It's utterly unthinkable. And thinking about this, I can't help but to laugh.

My dad continues to watch me, and when I calm down enough to look at me, he smiles back.

"That's right, Milky. Ah, that's a nice smile…"

He closed his eyes and sighs in content. His body sags as he does so.

"I promised I would keep the smile on your face. I did, didn't I?"

"Yes, yes you did." I say back to him.

"Now you promise me Milky. No matter what happens, always greet the outcome with a smile. No situation is too terrible that a smile won't make it better. Right?"

"Right."

My dad coughs a bit more, and I can't tell if he heard me or not. Regardless, he has a content smile on his own face as if he had.

"Thank you. Keep smiling, Milky. Keep smiling for me."

He says. And then his body goes limp. I would never hear his voice again.

Long after I realize this fact, I continue smile. My head buzzes dizzyingly, as if it is trying to find some reason for why my body is reacting the way it is in this situation. My father's last words echo in my head, and I force my smile into place, ignoring the throbbing pain in my head. Though if I wanted to continue smiling, I would need some help.

I set my headphones to max volume and set the song to repeat. Hopefully, playing the song loudly enough will give my head enough reason to smile. I knew the song well enough by now, so I hum along loudly alongside my mother's voice.

Perhaps I deluded my brain, but after enough time, finally the dizziness leaves my head. I'm well aware of my father's body next to me, and I knew how I felt about it, but my smiling has made that pain go away. My head is more clear than it had ever been.

I sat there for the longest time, listening and singing to the song in my headphones. My mother's voice. My father's body.

After a while I wondered briefly if I should leave. But if I did, where would I go? I didn't know where I was in this strange place. And besides, I couldn't leave my father's body. I continued to smile in place.

Before I knew it, night was over. I barely noticed that time had continued to pass. I refused to sleep. Not as long as I was told to keep smiling. And I kept listening to my mother's song as the cycle continued.

I don't know how long it was, but I started to get weak. Smiling had gotten harder, and my voice had grown faint. I was thirsty, hungry, and tired, yet I continued on.

Something near me was starting to stink horribly. The dumpster's trash must have been decaying. Although, that couldn't be the case since when I went in there, most of its content had already been rotten. The dumpster had not been touched since. That would imply that the decaying smell came from-

It didn't matter. I sang fiercely, trying to push that needless thought out of my head. My voice croaked in protest but thankfully, I managed to keep on going.

I began to hear voices. With a start, I realized they were not my mother's. I stopped my singing momentarily, and to my shock my headphones had not been playing her song for a while now. I had sang along to it for so long the song had been etched in my mind, and I had merely continued to sing as it replayed in my head.

The silence was unnerving. It left me with too much time to take notice of my discomfort , such as the fact that I was sitting in a pool of dried blood. I tried to sing my mother's song again, but since the pattern had been broken, I didn't know where to begin.

I heard those voices again. They were closer now, and I could hear them more clearly. I picked them out as a couple of people, one male and one female. They sounded giddy, drunk with laughter as they headed my way.

Then they came into view. I saw their eyes for a couple of seconds as everything changed. The lady's eyes widened as her hands cupped her nose and mouth, and she let out a squeaky shriek.

The male let out a loud yell and jumped backwards, before letting out a string of curses as he retreated back the other way.

"What are you doing?! Call the cops!" The girl screamed in her high pitch voice.

"R-right," the male replied and he reached in his pocket to bring out a phone.

I tilted my head and regarded them curiously. They had seemed quite happy just a moment ago. What they were so happy about going into an alley behind a bar was a mystery to me but-

Why did they seem so distressed now? Admittedly, the scene in front of their eyes may not have been the prettiest. But didn't they know the power of a smile? Had they just kept smiling along the way, surely they would understand. No situation was too terrible that a smile won't make it better.

How could I get them to smile?

My mother's song! It had a mysterious power to it. I had memorized it by heart and if I could just sing it for them now, surely they would understand. Surely they would cheer up.

I sing for them. It comes out a bit quiet and I can tell it's not quite the same. The women jumps away from me looking quite unnerved.

"W-what are the horrible noises coming from her mouth?"

I frown at that reaction. Not quite what I wanted to hear. But maybe I didn't quite get the song right. So I try again.

"Okay, okay, enough! This is creepy! I'm getting out of here!"

The girl turns around and tries to trot away, but the man catches her arm and stops her in her tracks.

"We can't leave. The police on their way and they told us to stand guard."

"YOU stand guard! You're a man, aren't you?!"

"I don't want to stand guard alone with this crazy chick! Come on, you're both girls, right? Shouldn't you be able to get along with her?"

"What the…?!"

They got into an argument and ignored me. I tried to move closer to them, but I simply did not have the energy. I desperately keep singing, hoping that soon my mother's voice would reach out to them, but nothing happens.

Eventually, I heard sirens. Shortly after a few uniformed policemen walk into view and inspect the scene. Their faces look so serious. Not a smile to be seen.

I try to sing to them, hoping that this time the power would work. They flinch quickly and regard me with surprise. A couple of seconds pass before they relax, peering at me and exchanging looks. One of the men walks up to me and I smile brightly at him, hoping that he would get the message.

He looked at me with an unreadable expression.

"Don't move," he said and he bent down.

It was the last thing I remembered before I fainted in his arms.